


a bed of twigs

by 264feet



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Alternate Universe, Childhood Friends, Closeted Character, F/F, Friends to Lovers, Gender Dysphoria, Gender Identity, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Trans Female Character, Trans Marianne von Edmund
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-31
Updated: 2021-03-07
Packaged: 2021-03-16 17:41:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 16,928
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29086272
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/264feet/pseuds/264feet
Summary: At age 14, a closeted transgender Marianne von Edmund is on a trip with her parents in Enbarr when they vanish. Dorothea, in the height of her career with the Mittelfrank Opera Company, takes it upon herself to reunite the lost noble, 'Blue', with her family. As she helps Blue come to terms with her situation and her identity, a mysterious plot involving the Crest of Maurice unfolds.
Relationships: Dorothea Arnault/Marianne von Edmund
Comments: 26
Kudos: 35





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A request for a friend. Thank you! Note: in the first few chapters, Marianne is referred to using a nickname and he/him pronouns until she comes out as trans. Please bear with the egg, she's fragile.

The guard sprints after the boy down the streets of Enbarr. The boy clutches the (presumably stolen) bread close to his chest. The guard follows the mop of baby blue hair on the boy; it’s hard to miss. He’ll need a disguise if he’s to get away with it next time.

First, though, there needs to _be_ a next time. Dorothea steps in and takes the strange boy into her arms as if he were just running to give her a hug. "Blue! You're back from your errand!" she says, far too loudly.

The chase screeches to a halt. The guard- she knows this one, he's infamous for being lenient on lost children- looks down at them in confusion. "Do you know this boy?"

Dorothea nods earnestly. The boy has gone limp in her arms. She runs her fingers through his soft blue hair. "Of course. Blue here is my dear baby brother. I sent him off to fetch a loaf of bread from the market, isn't that right?"

The boy shivers rather than back her up. Ah, a bad liar, then? Dorothea keeps talking effortlessly. "He's prone to bouts of nervousness, poor dear. I can't imagine the city guard chasing him has done much for that, now, has it?"

The guard shifts his weight. There’s a flash of recognition in his eye. He may have stopped Dorothea back when she was a street urchin, herself, but now she’s associated with the Mittelfrank Opera Company. Even as a commoner, she holds some sway above others. "This boy snatched that loaf of bread without paying for it."

"Oh, Blue!" Dorothea tsks. "I know you get nervous, but you're supposed to pay first, then take your item. Have you lost your coins, too? A shame..." Dorothea shakes her head sadly. "Well, I'm afraid we're at an impasse, aren't we? This poor loaf of bread has been squished in this wayward child's hands. There's no way it could be sold to anyone else, now, could it?"

"Damaged goods are damaged goods," the guard says. "If you two can't pay for it, then..."

Time for the hard sell. Dorothea gazes up at the man and flutters her eyelashes. "Then what, sir? I promise, I'll keep a much better eye on my dear baby brother here. Honestly, with the family's status--" She gestures to his noble clothes; they're custom tailored to his size, so those likely aren't stolen, "- what would he need to _steal_ bread for? This is a misunderstanding, I assure you." She pats the boy on the head. "With all due respect, sir, no wonder he's afraid with the rumors of those... how did you call them? Demonic Beasts?"

At that, the boy's breath goes still. Dorothea gives her best innocent look. "Can't you let him go just this once? Its his first time making this mistake, and doubtless you want to get back to keeping the people of this wonderful city safe. Isn't that right, Mr. Guardsman, sir?"

The guard rubs his temples. He sputters. "Fine. Just don't let this happen again.”

With that, he turns on his heel and walks off elsewhere. Dorothea lets the boy go from her iron grip. The loaf of bread has been squished between them, but if he's anywhere near as hungry as he looks, he won't mind. "All better," she says. "Try not to get caught next time, okay? The guard can be tough on children without homes.”

"Thank you, but… I… I'm not without a home," he insists. His voice comes out as a whisper. "I'm with the von Rigel family..."

Dorothea blinks. Is that supposed to be a family of note? Even during her brief time as daughter to a lady in waiting, she hadn't heard of an Adrestian noble family by that name. Or seen one with that hair color. "Forgive my rudeness," Dorothea says. "But is that a noble house?"

"Y-yes... in the Leicester Alliance."

"My, you're far from home, aren't you?" Dorothea's interest piques. "What has a noble boy stealing bread?"

For some reason, he flinches. "It's... well, I was waiting for my parents to return, and... I thought the baker wouldn't mind... if..."

Her stomach sinks. As a former urchin, her ears are always close to the streets. Last night, the guard had closed the city gates. Rumor had it that some type of monster- a ‘Demonic Beast’- had been spotted. If his parents are missing, it might be a bad sign.

She steps in. "If you're hungry, I have a few supplies to share," she says. "We'll find your parents together, alright, Blue?"

Blue nods. "A-alright. Thank you, miss--"

"Dorothea Arnault, with the Mittelfrank Opera Company." She curtsies. "At your service, milord."

He winces again. "No, please, just call me..." The boy thinks it over. "Blue... Blue is fine."

"Understood, Blue.”

She wracks her memory for any noble family called the von Rigels. Her knowledge of noble families outside of Adrestia is, admittedly, limited. She knows of great houses like House Riegan and House Gloucester in the Leicester Alliance. Either House von Rigel is minor in the nobility or there's a gap in her knowledge-- both are likely. "So, are you hungry? Your hard-earned bread awaits."

Blue shakes his head. "No... this isn't for me."

"Oh? I was under the impression that you were alone, save for your parents."

"I am... nevermind." He hangs his head, embarrassed. "It might be easier to show you."

Dorothea follows Blue to a small park. In front of a tree lies a fallen branch with a birds nest atop it. Several baby bluebirds cheep hungrily as Blue approaches. For the first time, he smiles. It's a gentle one-- not the cocky smiles she so often sees on boys playing soldier, or the haughty ones of the noble brats. "I'm back with food, little ones," he coos.

Quietly, he begins breaking off pieces of the bread to feed to the baby birds. By the time he's done, not even a crumb remains for himself. Dorothea stares in awe.

"May the Goddess return your family to you as well," he whispers, in a quick prayer. When he looks back at Dorothea, she pretends to clasp her hands together in prayer and nod. "Th-that's why I was taking that bread. I thought the baker would not mind if I took just one."

"Maybe if he knew you just wanted to feed some baby birds, he would have let you have some," Dorothea giggles. “Honestly, Blue, aren’t _you_ hungry?”

“N-no, I…”

He’s interrupted by his stomach growling. He covers his face in embarrassment. Dorothea giggles. “Looks like you really _aren’t_ a good liar, huh? That’s fitting of the heir to a noble house, I suppose. Anyway, I was being sincere when I said I have food that I'm willing to share. It can help tide you over until you find your family."

He peeks from between his fingers. "Are you certain?"

She nods. If the nobility, the royal family, and even the Goddess herself can't be bothered to help people like them, then Dorothea thinks it's up to the impoverished to help one another. She can always charm some more food out of the baker.

Blue's face lights up as he murmurs his thanks. His cheeks have dusted pink. She's glad she trusted him-- he’s the first young man she’s met who hasn’t immediately tried to flirt with her.

* * *

Dorothea hops the fence and slides down the hill. Blue, little noble boy that he is, hesitates. "Isn't it against the rules to cross this fence?"

"It's also against the rules to take bread, and also to feed birds in the city," Dorothea calls up to him. "Hurry up or I'm going to eat your share!"

Blue's stomach wins over his conscience, apparently; he manages to scale the fence and tiptoes down the hill. His reflection stares back at him from the water of the canal. Sharply looking away, he runs to follow Dorothea to what she's described as her 'hideout'-- a little area under a bridge.

"This used to be my favorite spot. It keeps the rain off your head," Dorothea says. "Plus, I have something special. Can you keep a secret?"

Blue nods. Dorothea removes a loose stone from the bridge to reveal a little hidden stash: food items wrapped in parchment. She takes out a soft pretzel (which has gone a little hard from the staleness) and splits it in half, handing the other half out. Blue accepts it. Protests about the food's dubious origin or storage quality die in his throat as his stomach begs for food.

"Th-thank you, Dorothea," he says. He bows his head. "Thank you, Goddess, for the meal."

Dorothea giggles. "I wouldn't go as far as calling me a goddess, buuuut..."

His face flushes red. "I-- I meant the actual Goddess who watches over Fodlan! Is it not custom in Adrestia to thank her for her blessing before you eat?"

A strange look passes over Dorothea's face, like she bit into a lemon. It's only a moment before she replaces it with a smile. "It's custom in noble households, indeed. I didn't mean to offend your delicate senses, Blue."

As far as she's concerned, the Goddess can take this pretzel and shove it. She's not about to say that out loud, though.

"I... don't feel offended," he says, quietly. He picks off a chunk of the pretzel and gently brings it to his lips.

Dorothea has already scarfed down her half, so she settles on watching Blue eat. He's a strange one, alright. If all noble brats in Leicester are half as kind as he, she would consider packing up and moving, herself. Adrestian nobles are so caught up in the pureness of their ancestry and their heritage and how they're chosen by the Goddess to stand above regular folk. Which implies, naturally, that someone like Dorothea was chosen by the goddess to eat stale pretzels under a bridge.

At least she was discovered by Manuela, a star of the opera, before things could get worse. She can see the boy glancing at Dorothea’s fairly nice dress and the state of the dirty hideaway under the bridge, as if they don’t mix. And they don’t, to be fair-- if Blue had been here a couple years ago, he would have found a girl in ragged robes with more knots in her hair than she could count.

Fortunately, Blue keeps his head down and just focuses on eating. Dorothea wouldn’t even know where to explain if someone _actually_ started asking her questions. What could she say? That even though they call her the ‘Mythical Songstress’, she’s still technically homeless? That she’s one of the few who sleep in the opera building itself? That she’s not sure when her beauty will give out and she’ll wind up back on the streets, thus her choosing to maintain this spot under the bridge?

She could say all that. She’s sure Manuela, who took her in to begin with, would understand. But if she hears that this is the way the Goddess has willed it one more time, she’s going to snap.

By the time Blue finishes, he doesn't look a whole lot better. He’s like a baby bluebird, himself. The first days alone are the hardest. Once he picks up on the rhythm of it, he'll be looking out for himself in no time.

Then again, she's thinking too pessimistically. Maybe his parents _are_ just fine. Maybe the great House von Rigel will reward her handsomely for protecting their little boy.

She's not counting on it, though. Reward or not, helping him is the right thing to do.

"Thank you again," Blue mutters.

"Of course." Dorothea smiles. "We should try and find your parents. Do you know to where they went?"

"Meeting... in the palace, I think. Lots of nobles were going to talk about trade..." Blue clasps his hands. "Father told me to wait for his return, but he never came back."

There's no chance they're getting even close to the palace. Maybe the guards would give some leeway to a noble boy, though. She taps her chin. "We could see if they made their meeting. If so, that would give us something to go off of."

"R-right... wait, 'us'? You want to help me still?"

"Why wouldn't I?"

He stares at his feet. "You... shouldn't get too close to me. I bring... misfortune to people around me."

This is a new one. Dorothea frowns. "Misfortune? I don't know if that could be true."

"But it is. I've been told as such many times. People tend to keep away from me," he says. "It's probably my fault that my parents... they..."

"I'm not hearing any more of that, Blue," Dorothea interrupts. "There's no way it was your fault. I've decided I'd like to help you and my mind's made up. Besides, do you even know how to get to the palace?"

He winces. "N-no..."

"Exactly. Looks like you'll need my help for at least a little bit longer." Dorothea replaces the loose stone in the wall and peeks out at the sky. "We still have a few hours of daylight. Follow behind me."

* * *

Atop the Enbarr's very own Church of Seiros- said to be built by Wilhelm himself- the clock tower chimes. Six steady notes echo through the city. Any self-respecting noble would adjourn a meeting for dinner by now.

Dorothea and Blue have taken a high vantage point in a treetop. Talking to (and attempting to flirt with) the guard had proven fruitless-- the royal guard pride themselves in not being distracted by riffraff. All they can do for now is survey the scene.

One by one, horse-drawn carriages line up outside the palace gates. Dorothea's hunch is correct; the nobles must be returning to their accommodations for the evening. She spies several familiar faces- Prime Minister Aegir, for one- and several unfamiliar ones, likely of the Leicester Alliance.

"Do you see your family?" Dorothea asks. It's starting to look more and more unlikely. As the last noble leaves the meeting chambers to address their waiting servants, she can't find one of them that looks even remotely similar to Blue.

The boy shakes his head meekly, shrinking into himself. "No..."

Dorothea can't stand seeing him so hopeless. She grabs Blue's hand. "Come on. We're getting to the bottom of this."

She urges Blue to climb down the tree with her. Most of the nobles have already quickly been escorted into the carriages, save for a pair of them-- a duo who look like a father and son are locked in a hushed conversation. Both of them boast bright pink heads of hair. Blue drags his feet, but Dorothea drags him onward.

The pink-haired son turns to address them first. Dorothea immediately spins a cover story in her mind. She could get thrown out of the city for daring to approach a noble without honest intentions. She quickly puts on a smile and bows as she was taught to do. "Milords, please pardon my intrusion. I find my self temporarily serving the young master of House von Rigel. It seems there's been a... misplacement between the young master and his family."

The father and son duo exchange a look. The father’s eyes linger on her body for too long. Then, the man speaks. "So it would seem. The von Rigels have not shown up for the proceedings thus far. I'm afraid it's out of our hands." He begins to step toward the carriage.

"Father, if I'm to succeed Duke Riegan one day, I can't ignore a member of the Alliance in need." The son, to his father's chagrin, squats down to Blue's height. "We've met once, haven't we? It's me, Holst."

"Holst," Blue mimics, his voice nearly inaudible. "Y-yes."

"When was the last time you saw your parents?" Holst asks.

"Yesterday morning... I think it was the first day of meetings."

Holst frowns. "I'm afraid they didn't show up yesterday, either... but there was intent for them to arrive." He stands to his full height and exchanges hushed words with his father.

Dorothea tries her hardest to listen in. She overhears the words 'minor noble' and 'their unfortunate situation' thrown about. When the discussion ends, neither Holst nor his father look happy.

The father breaks the news. "I'll see to it that the city guard is alerted. It would be quite troublesome if this were to spiral into an international incident. However, House Goneril is not in a position to provide further assistance at this time."

Holst tries to smile. "Your family still had accommodations here for at least one more night. You'll be fine, I promise."

Blue opens his mouth but no words come out. The Goneril carriage is the last one remaining; the driver looks at the family anxiously. With a cordial goodbye, both of the Goneril men enter the carriage and are gone.

The palace guard moves to close the gates. Dorothea escorts Blue, who's otherwise frozen in place, back out into the street. "Do you still have somewhere to stay?" she asks. "If he just left you out in the cold..."

"We had lodging, but... my family was supposed to pay the tab that evening. They never did, so..."

Her vision flashes red. Another noble who only thinks about themselves and their own image. They abandoned Blue- a von Rigel, a noble like themselves!- because of some whispered rumors. "You can stay with me," Dorothea says. Her mind is made up. "I have enough supplies to get us through 'til we find your parents."

"I- I couldn't impose..." Blue hugs himself. "I planned to go visit the Church for lodging..."

A pause. To talk openly with disrespect towards the Goddess is to paint a target on one's back. She walks with Blue as she tries to calm her own anger.

"If you think it's best, I'll guide you," Dorothea finally says. It's an inner compromise. He's a noble, and apparently devout. The Church would be likely to give him food and shelter.

But a selfish part of her wants him to stay. She's been alone for so long, even within the opera. Having company, even someone as unusual as him, would be wonderful. Plus, if she lets him go now, she'll never know the truth behind what happened. She hates what she's about to say. "During this time of year, though, it's rather busy. I was under the impression you didn't want to be around many others."

Blue stops walking. He looks like there's a war going on in his mind. Sweat races down his forehead.

Guilt grips her. She's manipulating his supposed 'misfortune', just like the nobles did. She had already made it clear she doesn't believe in luck beyond what one can make for themselves.

Fine.

"I... want you to stay," she admits. She knows the difference between them is like night and day. He's from a noble family; she's a nobody. He's going to lead part of the Leicester Alliance one day. She would be lucky if she could marry well before her beauty ran out.

She may still be young- still growing, even- but already she's had to plot out her future. If she doesn't want to wind up back on the streets, she's going to need to find some sort of 'in' with the nobility. Marriage, most likely, to some slob who only wants her body and her soothing voice.

This chance has fallen right onto her lap, even though it's with a different country's nobility. Blue isn’t a slob like the others. She barely knows him, but she trusts him. In the end, Dorothea isn't sure if she's confessing all this as part of her manipulative scheme or if she genuinely does just want Blue to stay.

(Maybe she does deserve the misfortune the supposed goddess gave her.)

Fortunately, he answers before she can mull it over. "I'll stay with you, if you truly insist."

“You will?” Dorothea tries not to sound excited. She’s not sure if she succeeds. “Come on! Let’s hurry back before it gets dark!”

She reaches out for his hand. After a moment of hesitation, Blue reaches out and grabs it tight.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A sleepover has a stressful interruption. Blue reveals a secret.

Dorothea has never felt anything from attending church. However, entering the opera house, even if it's empty- to see the ocean of seats before them, all focused on center stage- makes goosebumps raise on her neck. She can almost feel the spotlight shrouding her like a halo even now.

She's satisfied to note that Blue has stopped to admire it all as well. "Beautiful, isn't it?" she hums. "Welcome to the seat of the Mittelfrank Opera Company."

Blue shakes himself out of his stupor. "I've never seen anything like it," he admits. He looks over all the empty seats. "I've never been in a place like this, or a city such as Enbarr... I’m having trouble imagining so many people in one place."

Dorothea can't help but use the opportunity to pry a little. "Is your family's estate not located in or around any of the larger Alliance settlements? I would figure that a future noble house leader like yourself would have at least been taken to meetings, like that boy Holst with his father."

"No... we're not that major of a noble family," Blue says. He's begun to talk a little more earnestly; maybe she's gained his trust. "My father tends to do his dealings by post or on trips alone.”

Maybe this has to do with his self-imposed isolation due to the 'misfortune' he brings others. If they're such minor nobles, what would have brought them all the way to Enbarr? If Blue's father has kept him out of the loop, though, she doubts he'll know.

She takes his hand and leads him on an unofficial tour of the opera house. It's one of the first places Dorothea has come to regard as a home. As daughter to a lady-in-waiting, she has scant memories of her and her mother occupying cramped servants' quarters within stuffy noble estates, never quite comfortable enough to relax.

"I used to climb trees like that to try and sneak in here through a window... or listen in on performances for free," Dorothea admits. "I was always drawn to the stage. They always chased me off when they caught me, but- ironically enough- Miss Manuela invited me personally when she heard me singing songs that I'd overheard."

"She sounds like a wonderful person," Blue says.

"She is!" Dorothea beams. "She'll be sure to let you stay here-- just for a short while, I promise. We're going to get to the bottom of this mystery ourselves."

For now, they end their tour with the dormitories. With the opera’s growth, they had begun to grow nicer. Initially, the dorms had just been one large room that performers with nowhere else to go shared. Now, Dorothea’s pleased to show Blue that the dormitories are an entire wing of the opera house. It had been rumored that Manuela made contributions to its development.

The largest dormitory has four single beds lined neatly in a row. Others come and go; right now, Dorothea can call this space her own. The decorations always seemed nice to Dorothea- a vanity, a full armoire, a large mirror, and a closet full of outfits and costumes- but she finds herself a little embarrassed showing it off to a noble.

When she looks, though, Blue’s looking with awe. “It’s lovely.”

“Thank you. It’s… well, it’s home,” Dorothea says. “You’re free to stay here as long as you like. Manuela might ask you to help out a bit backstage at some point, but it’s nothing that will get your hands too dirty.”

Blue tugs at his shirt collar. “I can sleep here?” When Dorothea turns to look at him in confusion, he elaborates: “I… I’ve never shared a room before.”

She blinks. Then she remembers two things: Blue is the only son of a noble family, who probably has a bedroom the size of this entire opera house, and also, he’s a boy.

It’s not that she thinks of him as _not a boy_ \-- not exactly. It’s just that he’s unlike any boy she’s met. Maybe it’s the way he looks up at her with those big brown eyes, how his blue hair frames his soft face, or maybe it’s how soft-spoken he is. She feels completely at ease around him.

"Ah... right." She bows in apology. The spirit of Formality takes over. "I owe you my deepest apologies if I gave pretense of anything untoward. I promise that my intentions are pure. If you're too uncomfortable, I could find another place to lay my head tonight--"

"Th-that's not necessary. That wasn't what I meant." Blue waves his hands. "I meant, I'm afraid for your safety."

She blinks. "Pardon me?"

"I... told you. I bring bad luck to others. It's probably my fault that my parents are gone... I'm scared I would wake up and you would have vanished, too."

Dorothea shakes her head earnestly. "I'm not going anywhere, Blue. To be frank, I don't believe in the concept of fortune or misfortune in that way."

"But, the Goddess--"

She finishes the sentence for him. "-- gives us the freedom to find our own paths, does she not?” Funny how the Church will preach that and still suggest the system of nobility is inherently correct. If they can quote scripture to suit their needs, though, so can she. “This is the path I am choosing for now. That is all.”

Blue doesn’t argue. He lingers, as if unsure which bed to choose. He has nothing except the clothes on his back-- nothing to unpack, nothing to change into.

“We can wash up soon. You must be tired,” Dorothea says. “I can try to find some spare nightclothes for you. I’m certain there’s at least one guy your size who left some clothes here.”

“That’s not necessary… I wouldn’t want to impose--”

But Dorothea already had begun searching through the closet. “This is twice your size… this costume needs a good washing… this would be far too inappropriate,” she says as she rummages. “There’s a few nightgowns, if you would be interested.”

Dorothea holds one out. It’s a pink cloth nightgown that would cut off just above his knees. In general, a nightgown _can_ be a unisex clothing item, but this one seems to have been made with a more feminine idea in mind. Dorothea smiles apologetically. “We tend to have more female performers, or at least female performers who leave clothing behind--”

“I’ll take it.” Blue, surprisingly, walks forward and takes it. “I’m going to change.”

“Oh! Right now? I mean--” Dorothea isn’t sure why _she’s_ flustered. Blue would look so cute in it, but still. “Right! I’m going to go just set things up so people know you’re here. I’ll be back.”

She steps outside. A worker is lighting sconces in the hallway. Dorothea flashes a smile and sets out to notify someone in charge that she’s going to have a guest tonight. Not-so-secretly, she’s excited to see Blue all dressed up.

* * *

Hissing wakes her up.

Dorothea could name every type of pest by sound alone. Rats don't hiss, they chitter. Most of the bugs that would be around this time of year would be silent except for their wings. This hissing is new.

She waits for her eyes to adjust in the darkness. She's tempted to light a candle, but she doesn’t want to wake Blue. Fortunately, even though she can't see, her hearing is excellent.

It's coming from beside her. Now that she listens closely, she realizes it's not hissing so much as it's a voice being whispered from behind clenched teeth. The sharp sound had caught her attention, but as she listens closer, also hears a sound like rocks grinding together.

Dorothea tentatively steps out of bed. The sound grows louder as she approaches Blue. Her hand comes to rest on Blue's neck, hot as coal. She yanks her hand back, half-expecting to find a burn on it. The hissing and grinding sound halts for a second, then resumes.

Her eyes begin to adjust. Blue has curled up into a ball on his bed. He shivers like he’s cold, but sweat pours down his forehead in waves. His eyes are clenched shut. Now that she sees his mouth moving, she can place the sounds: he's whispering fervently, begging as if his life depends on it, all while his teeth grind themselves into dust.

Except it's not quite begging. Dorothea's not a believer, but anyone in the Adrestian Empire can recognize the Goddess's Prayer. On Sundays, people flock to the church to atone for their sins. The prayer, after being said once, ostensibly brings a sense of calm. Each time Blue finishes the prayer, he just begins it again.

"Goddessabovepleaseforgivemysinsandpleasehavemercyuponmywickedsoul--"

Dorothea reaches out a hand and stops. If he's having a nightmare, she would try to wake him up, but she can’t fully tell if he’s awake or not. She settles for using a handkerchief to mop up Blue's forehead. It's just as burning hot as his neck had been.

She can’t exactly remember her mother’s face. She had once been able to do so clearly, but now only small details come to mind: the waves in her hair, or the wrinkles near her eyes, or her slim fingers. When Dorothea would have a bad night, her mother would just sit next to her and run her fingers through Dorothea’s hair.

Dorothea sits by Blue’s bedside. Acting subconsciously, she traces her fingers through his soft blue locks. She had wondered what it would feel like to touch it. It feels like his scalp is radiating heat like the rest of him, and he’s damp with a cold sweat-- but something about smoothing out his hair is soothing to her.

His breathing begins to slow. Dorothea can still make out the words of his prayer. Absently, she begins to hum. Instead of reaching for a familiar ballad, she finds herself humming the Saints’ Lullaby. _Goddess, if you’re watching now, this doesn’t mean a thing_.

Soon, his teeth grinding stops. The prayer tapers off. His breathing grows slow and steady. Her own eyelids grow heavy again.

* * *

The fever- if it had been that- has passed by the morning. Blue hadn't shown any symptoms of illness the day before and he doesn't this morning, either. His forehead feels cool and clammy.

The sound of a bag hitting the nightstand wakes Blue up. He takes several moments to register where he is-- she can't blame him. If he remembers what happened last night, he shows no sign of it.

Dorothea unwraps the cloth sack. Inside are a selection of cheeses, fruits, and dried meats. "Good morning, Sir von Rigel! How did you sleep?"

Something she said touched a nerve; he hangs his head, bangs obscuring his eyes. "You can keep calling me Blue."

He had insisted as such on the nickname yesterday, too. Maybe he thinks she's patronizing him because he's shorter than she is? Or it hurt him that he was addressed as if he were the head of the household, when that position would fall to his father-- if he's still out there. Dorothea bows in apology. "I'm sorry, I didn’t mean to offend. I just know this isn't the type of luxury you're used to, so I wanted to make your morning a little more memorable."

Blue's nose twitches. He looks up again, guided by the smell of the food. "Did you have all this stored somewhere? No, the fruit is fresh..."

"I do have some savings from my work in the opera, you know," Dorothea says. She grins. "I figured I could splurge a little for the both of us."

His face softens. "I... I'm sorry I chastised you for how you chose to address me."

She sits across from him and divides up the food. "No apology is needed. We went over it before. I guess I'm just... surprised you don't mind a commoner addressing you so casually."

"But, um... you're not just a commoner. You've done so much to help me."

"The fact remains that I'm crestless.” Dorothea’s dry tone matches her joyless smile. "Unlike yourself, I presume? Is there such a thing as a Crest of Rigel?"

Blue quickly shoves bread and cheese into his mouth. He takes his time chewing it over.

"Crestless or not, we're friends," Blue says. Classic sidestepping of the question. Dorothea makes a mental note. "However... I don't mind formality. I just do not want to be called that."

"Called what? 'Sir'?"

He nods, seemingly timid. Dorothea's curious now. "May I ask why, Blue? Surely, that's how people will end up referring to you one day, correct?"

His face sours. Then, it’s like he shrinks a little further back into himself. “I suppose.”

She eyes him, sitting there in the little pink nightgown. His legs are pale and girlish. “Would you prefer to be called ‘miss’?”

Blue chokes. He thumps his chest, dislodging whatever it had been. “No!” he says, quickly, loudly. His eyes dart around as if to see if anyone had been listening.

“I didn’t mean offense. I just want to make you feel comfortable. Not everyone in your position has to be called ‘sir’.”

"It's not like that.” His voice takes a sharp quality that Dorothea hasn’t heard from him. "I'm just... not someone who should be addressed respectfully. That's all."

The only sounds that fill the room, then, are that of their respective chewing. Blue’s self-hating thoughts didn't come from nowhere. They could continue to argue it, or she could try another approach. "Blue... how do you like your parents, by the way?”

"Oh, they're quite fine," he says. "Um… father always keeps an eye out for me. And mother always reads to me from the Book of Seiros."

"Is that so?" Dorothea says. "To be honest, I never exactly had a father."

"Ah-- I'm sorry for my insensitivity."

"Not at all. I asked, if you recall." Dorothea tries to give an encouraging smile. "I'd like to hear about it. They say the bond between father and son is quite strong."

Again, Blue bristles. He shifts his weight. "Well..."

Dorothea places a hand on the small table between them. "If you tell me anything, trust that it will be kept in confidence. Nobody would believe the ramblings of a sultry commoner if I were to try and share your secrets, anyway."

"Do you swear?"

"From the bottom of my heart."

Blue, after a moment, reaches out and places his hand atop hers. His hand is, once again, frigid. The only time she’s felt his skin warm was during that ‘fever’.

"My parents and I… our relationship could be ideal, but there’s a shadow hanging over us. From the moment of my birth, something has felt... wrong. I feel as if I am watching my own life as if I were a character in a play, and I were also in the audience at the same time." Blue chews his lip. "It's one reason why I'm not fond of my real name. It sometimes takes two or three attempts for someone to get my attention, using it."

"So you feel as if you aren't connected with yourself?" Dorothea asks. She doesn't want to speak over Blue, but she understands. Ever since she's become known as the Mythical Songstress, it's like she's had to navigate wearing multiple masks, sometimes at once.

He nods, slowly. "I don't dare speak of it too openly, but... members of my family have been scorned by the Goddess. We only bring despair to those around us.” His eyes turn glassy. “Entire herds of livestock fall ill and pass away on our farmland without explanation. Droughts and storms that don't affect the rest of the Leicester Alliance seem to follow us. But worst of all..."

Dorothea realizes she's leaned in, eyes opened wide. He blanches. "I... well... you wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

“Try me.”

"If I do, you'll leave," Blue admits. "And, it… it would be best for your own safety, but still, I have to hesitate."

"I haven't gone anywhere yet." Dorothea looks him firmly in the eye. "Please, Blue. I don't want you to suffer alone."

His hand is trembling, now. He can't look her in the eye.

"When I was about six, there was a bird who fell from the tree and injured its wing," Blue says. "I kept it in an empty jewelry box and nursed it back to health. Even when it could fly again, it stayed close to me. She would perch on my windowsill and sing to me. It... was one of the first 'friends' I had, even if it wasn't a human."

Dorothea nods, encouraging him to go on. He takes a breath. "I... was praying every night that I wouldn't do something I would regret. Something I would do without knowing."

"Blue..."

"I lost several hours of my life. I remember I felt something... churning, in my chest, like it was trying to get out. Father had put a lock on the other side of my door. I remember praying while my dear bird was singing to me. When..." His voice cracks. "When I remember 'waking up', the bird... was gone, and..."

"Oh, Blue..." Dorothea runs her thumb over his hand. "I know you didn't have any ill intent toward it."

"It doesn't change what happened. I woke up to feathers scattered across the room. I... still think in my heart there's a chance I just scared it, and it flew out the window. Perhaps it's still flying around to this day." Blue pulls his hand back. "But... my only friend... driven from me. I still take solace in animals, even if I don’t deserve to... they're pure of heart and still offer me chances despite what I’ve done. But even then, I’m terrified that I may hurt one of my friends like that again."

Blue has curled into a ball, his back heaving with sobs. She reaches out a hand and he flinches. Dorothea holds back.

“Blue… if I may speak freely?”

“Of… of course.”

Dorothea clears her throat. “So what?”

"E-excuse me?"

"I said, 'so what?'" Dorothea says. Her voice is soft, but stern. "I spilled scalding tea on a noblewoman's lap. I stole from the collection dish at church. I kicked mud on a noble boy because he made fun of me. I've committed more than enough sins in my lifetime, and I'm doubtless going to commit more before my time runs out. Do you think less of me?"

"Of course not. I... I think you did those things for a reason."

"Everyone does things for a reason. Even you. I can't believe that you would just hurt someone- person or animal- that trusted you just because it was out of your control."

"I-it's different. I am, deep down, a monster. A nasty, hulking brute. It’s within every man’s heart to kill, noble or not. The Goddess will judge me for my sins… and all I can do is pray that she’ll show me the slightest mercy."

"Blue, why haven't you hurt me?" Dorothea asks. "You could have easily hurt me last night. Why do you even feel guilt if you're just a monster? Surely, monsters don't repent."

"That's just..."

"And another thing. If the Goddess really cursed your family, what right does she have to judge you?" Dorothea's fully aware she's fully in 'blasphemy' territory now. "If you’re set up to fail, and then you do so, doesn’t that reflect more upon the one who set up the circumstances?”

Blue stares at her impassively. Dorothea continues, well aware he could have her burned for what she’s saying. “I know vile men, Blue, and you aren’t one of them. You’re trying to do better. You care about the people around you. If I were the Goddess, I would reserve my judgement for the thousands of men who aren’t burdened with inherent misfortune, but still choose to act monstrous.”

"And if there's a reason I am cursed, one that I don't even know of yet? If I am truly deserving of hatred?”

"Then I still wouldn't turn my back on you."

Blue's breath catches in his throat. Dorothea's gaze doesn't waver.

He releases a breath. A large amount of tension held in his body seems to evaporate. "I... fear if I look for my parents, I'll find my answer. That they were not eaten by a monster, but rather, that they were the monsters. If even they could succumb to this curse, then I don't have a chance."

“We don’t know anything yet for certain. We’re going to figure out the truth. If the worst has happened, we’ll move on. You aren’t your parents. You’re your own person-- a good person.”

The tears have started flowing again. “Why do you care so much?”

Because nobody cared for me. Because this world is unfair to all of us. Because you’re the first person I’ve truly let my guard down around since I lost my mother. Because a part of me is still hoping that there will be some way of escaping a life of returning to the streets if I help you find your parents and get a reward. Because it makes me feel good to help others. She isn’t sure what her real answer is.

“You deserve to be cared about. That’s all. I know I’m no bird,” she adds, teasingly, “but I’m happy to be your friend.”

* * *

Visitors have filled the opera’s lounge. Even when shows aren’t going on, people love tours. Blue and Dorothea have washed up and changed clothes. She offered to really try and find him something masculine to wear, but he instead opted to wear the outfit he wore yesterday.

Dorothea leads him toward a woman who's flirting unsubtly with a nobleman. "Your patronage toward the arts is _so_ appreciated," she says, leaning forward to let a little more cleavage show. The nobleman gulps, a shaky smile plastered on his face.

"Miss Manuela?" Dorothea begins.

Blue stares up at the woman. Dorothea has seen plenty of lustful eyes towards Manuela, but his stare is different. Appreciative, as if in awe of her. Jealous, even.

Manuela's faux smile finally meets her eyes. "Pardon me, darling, I'll be right back."

The noble certainly doesn't seem to mind watching Manuela walk away to chat with them. Once they're alone, Manuela lets out a sigh. "Keeping them buttered up can be such a chore," she laments. "How are you, Dorothea, darling?”

“I’m doing wonderfully, Miss Manuela.”

“Oh, please, I still insist-- just call me Manuela.” She touches her fingers to her lips, giggling. “And who’s this?”

Dorothea waits before realizing Blue isn’t about to introduce himself. Awkward, since she doesn’t know a name for him besides the one she gave him. “This is the heir of von Rigel. His family came here on a trip, but his parents have gone missing. He stayed here last night and we’re going to find his parents today.”

Blue stands, hands clasped in front of him, head bowed. Manuela coos. “Oh, poor dear. You must be so frightened. Lost in a foreign city…”

“Country, actually,” Dorothea says. “The von Rigel family is nobility in the Leicester Alliance.”

She arches a brow. “Ah, this must have to do with that tariff meeting that all the nobles were grumbling about,” she says. “I’m afraid I haven’t seen hide nor hair of them, but I can try to draw out more information today to aid your search.”

“Thank you, Manuela. That would be most helpful.” Dorothea smiles. “Right now, our best lead might be to see if they returned to their original lodging within Enbarr.”

“That sounds like a safe bet. The city guard has ended the state of emergency, so you might get some information out of them, now.” Manuela puts a hand to her chin. “I don’t want to say the incidents have to be correlated, but nobody was allowed in or out for a while due to some kind of monster sighting. They’re chasing fairy tales, if you ask me, but I suppose there’s always a kernel of truth at the center of those stories.”

Blue’s holding his breath. Dorothea takes his hand, hoping to quietly signal to him that he’s going blue in the face. “We’ll take a look into that as well. If we don’t find our answer today, though, I’m sure it’s acceptable for him to stay longer?”

“But of course.” Manuela sounds as if it weren’t even a question. “If you need something to keep your mind occupied, we could always use another hand backstage. We have a performance of _The Four Saints_ upcoming, you know.”

“Thank you,” Blue says, still unable to look at Manuela.

Once they say their goodbyes, Blue practically drags Dorothea out of the building. She spies Manuela arching a brow as she watches them go.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The investigation reaches an end. Manuela tells Blue something that changes his life.

The stench of alcohol overpowers the street. Dorothea resists the urge to hold her nose as soon as the tavern's stench washes over them in full.

"The Drunken Eagle?" she whispers to Blue, as if still in disbelief. The Drunken Eagle Tavern & Inn, hanging off the shady end of the merchant's district, tends to rent out rooms for people too drunk to make it back home otherwise, or to roughnecks looking for cheap lodging that doesn't ask questions. Or both. Dorothea is surprised that nobles could even walk in here without their coin purses being snatched.

"Father liked that it was far from where the other nobles were staying," Blue whispers back, ashamed. "He wanted us to keep a low profile."

Curiouser and curiouser. Dorothea thinks up a game plan. A wide-set man leans over the front desk, perpetually chewing on something. The way his eyes wander over her tells Dorothea everything she needs to know.

"Well, what can I get for ye, miss?" the man asks, acting as if Blue weren't even there.

Dorothea flips her hair over her shoulder and laughs. "Oh, actually, I'm not here for drinks or for a room. I came here looking for a gentleman like you."

He raises a brow. "That so? What for, darling?"

She bites her tongue to prevent from scowling. Ugh. She leans in, making sure he can get a whiff of her perfume. "You see, my friend here-" She gestures to Blue, "-got separated from his family who were staying here. I don't suppose you'd know if they've come back? They're the von Rigels."

He snorts. "Ain't in the business of gossiping about my customers, miss. It'd be a quick way for me to get a dagger in my back."

"But darling Blue here was one of your customers, wasn't he? I'm only asking on his behalf."

"Yeah. Key word, 'was'. Ain't no more. That room's been rented out again." The man rises up to his full height. He reaches out and begins polishing tall glasses, turning his head away from them. "If the kid's lost, take him to the guard."

"Oh, come now," Dorothea giggles. She places a hand on the counter. "I don't suppose there's any way some information could 'accidentally' get out, is there? Any anonymous gentleman who just so happened to give us information about the von Rigels would be doing a service to both a noble family and the Mittelfrank Opera Company, you know."

"Sorry, little lady. I ain't got no interest in helpin’ nobles or the opera."

Dorothea clicks her tongue. She's going to need a different approach; she put him on the defensive too quickly.

To her surprise, however, Blue steps forward. "Nobles don't pay in advance. We don't carry our money with us. The room fee was billed to my family's estate, I think, right?"

"Well, it was, but--"

Blue cups his hands around his mouth in order to project his naturally quiet voice. "Bartender, put a round of drinks for everyone on my family's bill!" He follows it with a: “please!”

A round of cheers rings out in the tavern. The bartender takes one look at Blue's hair and fancy clothing and his face lights up in recognition. He marks something on a parchment and begins preparing more drinks.

Dorothea instantly knows his approach. She puts a hand on her hip and allows her voice to project. "He's always thinking of other people, even when he's in trouble, himself," she says, loudly. "To think anyone wouldn't help a boy as kindhearted... who would be so selfish to let him starve in the street!"

The man at the front desk flinches. "That's not--"

"C'mon, Lundgar! Help the kid out!" a mercenary-looking type calls out. Other patrons join in and call out their support for Blue. How easily drink can sway others.

The man at the front desk throws down his cleaning rag in frustration. "Fine! But it's your funeral-" He points to Dorothea, "-if ye get hurt, lass."

"Oh, thank you," Dorothea says, batting her eyelashes. "Now, tell us."

The man looks around him. He leans in. "I remember ‘em. They stuck out like a sore thumb. They had a carriage that was supposed to take 'em to the palace. They left in the morning, leaving the kid behind. But the carriage looked like it took them the wrong way. If it followed that road--" He points to the right, "it would take 'em out of city limits. It was later in the day I heard about monsters being sighted outside the city gates."

Blue looks like he's been punched in the gut. Dorothea speaks quickly. "Did you get a look at the carriage driver?"

"I didn't," he admits. "They were wearing a cloak with a hood up. Thought it was a bit strange, myself. Later on, little boy Blue over there walked out and I assumed their business here was done." He shrugs. "Now there's a guy sleeping off his drink in the von Rigel’s old room."

"Is there any way we could get in to take a look?" Dorothea asks.

Blue intercepts. "I... don't think that will be necessary," he says. "We traveled very, very light. All that was left behind was some clothing."

"Uh-huh. I packed it up in a box. Let me get it." He walks back into a storage room.

While he's gone, Dorothea and Blue exchange a look. "I hate to say it, Blue, but I'm suspecting your parents were taken somewhere against their will."

"Oh, Goddess..." He clutches his hands in front of his chest. "I… don’t know what to say."

The man returns with a box packed tight with folded noble clothing and assortments. Blue takes it gratefully. They're both grateful to leave the stink of the Drunken Eagle behind.

"Reaching city limits will be a bit over an hour on foot. Do you want to store that box at the opera?" Dorothea asks.

Something's burning in Blue's eyes that she's never seen before. "No. Um... Let's go, now. ... Please."

* * *

They waste no time on their way out of the city limits, but Dorothea can't help but point out a few memorable sights on their way.

Enbarr has caused her more than her fair share of grief, but she could never bring herself to hate it. Standing on a bridge above the sparkling waterways always makes her feel at home. Politely, Blue takes the time to stop and sightsee a little with her, even though she can tell his mind is elsewhere.

His eyes trail the city's birds and stray animals whenever they pass. He especially watches the horses as they pull carriages along-- she's not sure if he just loves horses or if he's looking to see if the driver of the carriage is wearing a cloak. So far, though, all of them have their faces uncovered.

Blue had the idea of questioning some of them, but Dorothea had decided against it. Nobles look down upon the profession, but the city's carriage drivers take themselves as seriously as the city guards. They're backed by the merchants' guild and each registered carriage bears an emblem from Emperor Ionius himself. A noble from Enbarr would immediately recognize a fraudulent carriage, but visitors from afar might not know. If Dorothea's suspicions are correct, Blue's parents were taken away by someone pretending to be a carriage driver, almost certainly to do them harm.

"Sorry..." Blue speaks up, well, out of the blue. "I, um… hope that you didn't mind I raised my voice back there in the tavern. You were handling things quite fine, but I... wanted to help."

"Sorry? What do you have to be sorry for?" Dorothea chuckles. "Without you, I don't think we would have gotten that info from him. I admit, though, I was surprised by that burst of confidence."

He gives an embarrassed laugh. "I just... um, I don't know. I've never done something like that. I just saw you needed help, and... I just did that."

"I liked it. You should be a little more bold sometimes, Blue." Dorothea smiles.

He tries to hide it by staring down at his feet and letting his long hair fall in his face, but she can tell his face is burning red.

The gate is clogged with travelers and the guards who are vetting them one by one. Having closed the city gates must have caused a traffic overflow. Dorothea can't remember something like that having happened in recent times-- it doesn't seem like it bodes well for their investigation.

In the crowd of faces, she spies the guard who had been chasing Blue because of the stolen bread. He seems to be doing little more than supervising the line of people waiting to leave the city so he can provide backup if things get out of hand. He has no love lost for Blue, but maybe she could play up his sympathy for younger people.

Besides, wasn’t that Holst guy supposed to have contacted the city guard? They’ve been busy with the monster sighting, but surely they would send a few people to aid a noble. And nobody noticed the von Rigel family didn’t show up for the meeting?

Dorothea chews her lip. This mystery may be bigger than she thought. She replaces the nervous look with an award-winning smile, both for Blue and for the guard.

"Excuse me, sir?" she says, coquettish.

The guard glances at her from the corner of his eye but doesn't turn his head. "If you're looking to leave, get in line. Otherwise, this is no place to play around."

"Oh, yes sir, I know. Just a moment of your time, I swear. My little brother here has found himself in trouble again and could really use the help of a noble guardsman..."

He stands up a little straighter. "Well, I can't say no to someone in need..."

"You see-- funny thing, really," Dorothea says. "My darling brother here is running odd jobs. It seems that a family of nobles who were visiting left behind some clothing and other important items."

Blue holds up the box of his family's clothing. Gold-encrusted garments hang out over the top. If the guard notices that Blue is- and has been- dressed in a lavish outfit this whole time, he doesn't comment upon it.

"If you don't see 'em in line, but you still want to do the right thing, take it to the post. So long as you know where it's going, I'm sure the nobles will pay for the post and send a reward."

"Ah, but it might not be too late!" Dorothea says. Blue is on her wavelength; he's scanning the crowd for any sign of his family, or at least a carriage driver who seems out of place. "You see, they left in quite a hurry, and it's been a touch unusual. You wouldn't happen to know anything about the von Rigels, would you?"

The air around them seems to freeze. Ever since Dorothea accidentally lit a candle as a child by snapping her fingers, she's known she's sensitive to magic. It's not something a street urchin like herself has had much time to explore, but it's a talent that not many people- commoners, especially- are able to pick up on.

As far as it's explained, people without a penchant for magic could learn basic spells but little else. Her own potential is much stronger. Manuela had once commented how Dorothea seems able to sense latent magic around them, since she can as well.

The guard opens his mouth but only lets out a choked gasp. He tries to speak again, but the sound of marching drowns it out. Dorothea turns her head. Knights in shining white armor march down either side of the street to clear traffic. Two flag-bearers walk in step with a royal messenger dressed in gala depicting the Crest of Seiros. Dorothea has only seen the Adrestian Imperial Guard up close like this during parades and the like-- this time, they're without any mirth.

The messenger amplifies their voice with a touch of magic. "By order of Prime Minister Aegir, and Emperor Ionius, the Imperial Guard will now be handling the matter of the city's border. All of the city guard are dismissed to their regular duties." To certify his message, he holds up a parchment stamped with shining red seals.

During those parades, she hadn't sensed any magic from the imperial guard members who wear armor. Armor dampens the potency of magic, and thus magic-users don’t wear it, save for the legends about holy knights and the such. During parades, Dorothea had only sensed magic from the court mages who wore robes.

Now, though, the stench of magic radiates from the imperial guard. It reeks stronger than the Drunken Eagle did of alcohol. Dorothea would recognize if the magic was all warding spells of some kind; faith magic feels warm and fuzzy, like you've had a sip of wine on a brisk night. Reason magic smells of ash and smoke, feels like sharply defined lines and equations without room for error.

This magic, however, feels like she's alone on the streets again after having just lost her mother. It feels like she has no shelter, no food, and the night is starting to close in.

Instinct takes over. She shoves Blue behind a stack of crates, most likely exports that had piled up. She presses a finger to her lips. He nods, eyes wide with fear. She wonders if he can sense the same thing. The acrid magic makes her eyes burn.

The head guard scoffs. "We weren't notified of this change. This is outrageous!"

The messenger replies with a voice like ice. "The order is here and now. Perhaps you'd like to stand before the prime minister and tell him that you dare defy his orders?"

Although they grit their teeth, the city guard steps aside for the imperial guard. Dorothea’s blood runs cold as a knight walks past her, his face invisible behind his helm. He stops in his tracks.

"Little girls who poke their noses where they don't belong get in trouble," he says. "Run on back to the opera."

With that, the imperial guard focuses their attention- sharp as a knife- on getting people in and out of the city. To their credit, they work faster than the city guard had, if only because people are too afraid to talk back.

Dorothea's mind clouds over as if she's stepping on stage. She grabs Blue's hand and walks quickly until they're out of sight-- then, they run.

* * *

A chasm thick with words left unspoken forms that day. Blue doesn't have to ask to know that Dorothea suspects something's amiss. The hair had risen on her arms when the imperial guard approached as surely as if it had been a pack of tigers instead.

Word will arrive at the Leicester Alliance as surely as the winds blow. News will spread that the von Rigel family never returned. As much as Dorothea fears this outcome, the von Rigels have prepared for this since long before Blue was born.

The issue is that, when it finally happened, Blue was sure that he would be dead-- either slain by his kin or put down as a beast would be. Once he had been left alive and alone, motivated only by the clawing in his stomach, did he have to figure out what to do next. At the moment, it had been just borrowing a piece of bread, and the rest...

Blue runs the brush through Dorothea's long hair. She sits at the vanity, painting her face. It's easy enough to pretend the ache in his heart is from the loss of his family rather than the scene in front of him.

And he does mourn, he mourns until his voice is hoarse from praying, both for the loss of his parents and the continuation of his farce of a life. Yet he had braced himself for this as surely as if he had been born in a tall nest without a pair of wings.

"I'm nervous," she admits. "I've had pretty big roles before, but this is the first time I've ever played someone as big as Saint Seiros. That was usually reserved for Miss Manuela."

A small smile finds its way onto Blue's face. "You're going to do wonderfully. It's because she has so much trust in you that she's given you the leading role this performance."

He looks up, catches Dorothea staring at his reflection in the mirror. She preoccupies herself again with the makeup.

"Thanks, Blue. Sorry again to halt our search."

She still has hope. What will she do when she finally understands that his family is dead? He almost fears the answer. It would be nice to just stay like this forever, touring the city by day, assisting Dorothea with her performances by evening. No Crest. No nobility. No expectations. He wills that the messenger pigeon carrying the missive to his family's estate would get lost.

"This is more important to me."

He focuses on brushing. She's saying something else, but he focuses on her hair, the waves as soft as a stream. Blue's hair has grown long, but never this long. If he were actually expected to show his face during his parents' meeting, he's sure one of the servants would have pulled him aside with a pair of shears and started clipping away.

_"It doesn't hurt,"_ his mother had cooed, not knowing it's a lie. When he looked in the mirror and saw the boy staring back, he wondered if he had transformed into a monster already.

"One hundred," he finishes counting. All that will be left is to place the golden headdress. Her hair smells sweet like fruit. He's a noble, able to afford the finest luxuries of Leicester, and he washes his hair with an unscented bar of soap.

Satisfied, she takes a lily that had been plucked from the garden and tucks it behind her ear. She stands and does a twirl in her holy regalia. He forces himself to look away from how the dress spins.

Dorothea takes a second lily and weaves it into Blue's hair. "Now we match," she says.

"Dorothea--" His breath catches in his throat. "What if you need a spare?"

"There are plenty more flowers outside. This one suits you."

He dares to look at himself in the mirror. His reflection next to Dorothea's is like coal next to a diamond.

An assistant peeks his head into the room. "You're needed backstage in five minutes."

"I understand." She stands at her full height, looking down the bridge of her nose at the assistant. "You are dismissed."

He wonders if Saint Seiros herself had such a formidable presence. Even as someone who questions the goddess, Dorothea is her most beautiful creation.

"Blue." She turns on her heel. "I'd like your help practicing."

"R-right now?"

"There's no other time. We're starting from the top of Act 2."

Before he has a chance to protest- his singing voice could never be as nice as hers- she's started. _"As sure as the Goddess loves this planet, so do I love you."_

Imperial Year 91. Saint Seiros showed thanks to Emperor Wilhelm before charging into battle against a now-corrupt Nemesis. Historical and religious records insist their bond was chaste, but the opera doesn't draw attention by _not_ adding a little intrigue.

He sings without thinking, the words flowing from his lips. _"May my devotion to you last a thousand years.”_

Dorothea places her hand on his cheek. He shivers. Her hand is warm and soft. Surely he's scorned by the Goddess, because he equally wishes for his soul to be absorbed by hers as he wishes for their souls to be joined in wedlock.

* * *

Blue's job had been to move set pieces around backstage. Once he's done, it's all starting so quickly and nobody tells him to leave, so he doesn't.

He peeks out from backstage at the sea of faces in the audience. They're all watching the opera, but it's easy to pretend they're looking at him. In another world, he tiptoes out before an adoring crowd in a flowing dress and the applause echoes.

He would sweep a hand through his flowing hair, hit a high note without straining-- oh, and they would throw roses at his feet, dream of taking him on dates to restaurants bathed in moonlight, and then he...

'He'.

Blue peels himself away and slinks backstage again. Dorothea, as Saint Seiros, has the crowd captivated. It's no wonder she's earned the title Mythical Songstress; she has a voice like a siren and a face like an angel. It's a title she earned, not a burden she inherited, not a legacy based around a rock stuck in her chest.

'Blue'. He's even begun to refer to himself like that. How quickly he's become influenced in a short time, hanging around with Dorothea, while the Goddess casts his parents into the underworld. He whispers a prayer to the Goddess as apology for his cowardice. May they rest in a shred of peace with the knowledge that he won't repeat their mistakes.

He slips from backstage to the halls of the dormitory. He still has precious few belongings in the world now, so packing up is only a matter of wrapping the miscellaneous baubles and flowers that Dorothea has given him over the past few days, placing them in the box of his parents’ last belongings, and carrying it away. He's tempted to leave his possessions, but she might think he was abducted if he just vanishes without warning. Packing up and leaving has a sense of finality to it. The only regret is that he won't have time to say goodbye.

His escape lasts all of two seconds before he runs into a figure in the hallway. He yelps and clasps his hand over his mouth. Manuela looks down at him quizzically.

"Didn't feel like sticking around for the show?" she asks, not quite interrogative, but not quite passive enough to let him slip by, either.

"S-sorry, ma'am."

"Ma'am?" she scoffs. "Maybe it is time to retire."

Oh no, he's just made it worse. "No! I meant no offense. I, um, I was just trying to leave..."

"So soon? Dorothea's going to miss you terribly, you know."

It sticks him like a dagger in the gut. He _knows_ , but just having it pointed out like that drives home his guilt. "It's better for her if I'm not around."

"On the contrary. I've never seen her so happy."

That's enough to give him pause. He had assumed that Dorothea is just a jovial person, and that was _in spite_ of his miserable attitude, not because of it. While he's taking in the information, Manuela gestures at the door behind him. "Would you like to sit down and talk for a moment? This hallway gets awfully drafty."

He can't imagine anything he wants less in the world, but he's polite, so he agrees. Soon, they're sitting across from one another on two separate beds. Once it becomes apparent that Blue isn't about to say anything, Manuela speaks again. "I was sincere with my words. Dorothea has blossomed since I brought her to the opera, but there's always been something missing. I think you help bring that _something_ out in her. There's a skip in her step."

His voice comes out hoarse. "I can't imagine why."

"Don't sell yourself short. Unless you're really just playing some type of long con, which I doubt you are, you're not the typical kind of guy that's hurt Dorothea over and over." She lets out a small sigh. "She's so young, but it's already happening to her... men old enough to be her father line up to woo her like she's a rare flower to collect. They don't see anything past her beauty."

Blue can't think of the words to argue. It would be a lie to say he's only stuck around because she's helping search for his parents; he's known since the moment they vanished that they weren't coming back.

He plays with the cloth that holds the small trinkets in it. During their free moments, Dorothea taught him how to press a flower in a book. She showed him a stream where you can pick up the shiniest stones from the clear water. His noble status meant he could buy items a thousand times as valuable if he so desired, but no luxury feels as great as the trinkets he has in his hands.

"You, though... you're different. For one, you're kindhearted. You didn't have to help us at all, but it meant the world to sweet Dorothea," Manuela says. "And you look so nice with that lily in your hair."

His hand flies up to the side of his head. He had forgotten that Dorothea had woven it in. "Dorothea had an extra," he says quickly, as if he were caught stealing from his mother's purse.

"She plucked two, didn't she? One was 'extra' because it was for you," Manuela says. She crosses her legs, resting her chin on her hand. "Come to think of it, I don't even know your name. Dorothea only calls you by a nickname, doesn't she?"

"Y-yes, she does. Sorry," he admits. "My... real name is--"

She wags a finger. "Ah-ah. You don't have to say anything you don't want to. Names aren't destiny, you know."

He stares down at the pressed rose as if it will save him in some way. He feels like an insect pinned to a board, and Manuela's about to write a name he can't see on a label beneath him. She just stares at him during the silence that follows, a look on her face that's a bit more than just sympathy.

"Blue." Manuela's face is severe. "I'm not always good with subtlety. I saw the way you were looking at Dorothea out on stage."

He winces. "I swear my feelings aren't improper--"

"That's not what I meant. I was like you." She looks him in the eye. "I was once a young man, staring up at opera singers and envisioning myself in their position. I spent night after night at the temple praying to the Goddess that she would let me wake up as a girl."

She might as well have lifted him up, slammed him on the ground, and cracked him open. It feels like Manuela is no longer speaking to him. It feels like she's appealing to something that's lived inside his body for a long time, waiting, hiding like a wounded animal.

"You... prayed..."

"I didn't wake up this way. Transformations don't happen overnight," she says. "But there is a way. You would be surprised how many women you see every day who were born as the son of their parents. The reverse is also true-- men who were born as a daughter."

"I'm not... I'm not like that." Tears sting his eyes. He grinds his teeth. "I'm not. I'm not!"

His own fear of showing anger calms him down. He takes a shaky breath, unsure why he's letting this get him so worked up. Manuela looks at him with her brows knit.

"You don't have to be," she says. "If I've crossed a line, I'm sorry, but I had to take a chance. I'm trying to be the type of person I needed when I was younger. If someone had given me permission to live my life as a woman, it would have saved me quite the amount of hardship."

Blue doesn't realize he's weeping until he feels the hot tears running down his cheeks. He feels as if there's a chasm ripping his chest open and letting in the cold air. Like the Goddess is appraising him to see if his soul is rotten.

It started with the dreams. He dreamed extensively about having a younger sister, about brushing her hair, about having tea parties with her. His parents had only one heir, though, and they had no intention of losing him. There had never been need for another. He liked to imagine they would come home from the market with toys; something useless like a wooden sword for him, and a porcelain doll for his 'sister'. It would have fine blonde hair and a little painted smile and a dress covered in lace.

In the happy dreams, they play with the toys until he realizes he can no longer tell which seat he's in: the one occupied by the boy or occupied by the girl.

In the nightmares, he smashes the porcelain doll with the toy sword like the monster he is, because he knows too much, and the only way to stop it is to destroy it.

The next thing he knows, Manuela has seated next to him and embraced him from the side. She smells like an adult woman's perfume, like dimly lit lounges where they drink from tall and thin glasses. It reminds Blue of how he had once scrubbed himself with soap until his skin broke out in a rash trying to wipe off the scent of mother's perfume before she came home.

Something had compelled him to stand in mother's heels and look at himself in the mirror. The shoes had been comically large on him. Despite being their son, Blue knows precious little about what his parents do outside of being his parents. Does his mother like to put on this perfume and dine at the finest establishment in the city? Has she danced in a ballroom under a chandelier while wearing lovely heels, being twirled by a handsome man who sees her as the most beautiful woman in the world?

He's only ever taken sips of wine when it's offered to him, but he's seen servants in their off-hours, red-faced and drunk. They stumble as they walk to their quarters, they say things they don't mean to say, and the next day they claim they were swimming inside their head. Blue's never been drunk, but he feels like he might as well be with how the world is spinning as if he’s in a whirlpool. He keeps his lips firmly closed in case he says something he might regret.

Something he will definitely regret.

"You're not a monster, whether that's truly what you want or if it's just something you want to explore," Manuela is saying, once he's capable of hearing again. "Dorothea really cares about you. If leaving is truly what you want, I won't stand in your way again, but I'd like to ask you to be true to your own feelings."

He's just always wanted to be something he's not-- like maybe a commoner who doesn't have to be locked up all day because of a Crest. Or a horse who has little more to worry about all day than grazing and roaming around open fields. Or a girl, yes, the thought has crossed his mind, but surely it's only because this girl whose body he would trade his own for in a heartbeat wouldn't have his horrible Crest and circumstances.

"She wouldn't think you're weird or strange in any way for this. She's aware of my past. We could let you try on one of her dresses. You're not too far off in size."

Dresses. Flowing. Soft. Beautiful. His heart soars and then plummets as if shot down by a hunter. He so loves admiring the fancy dresses in the shop windows, but it's always soured by his own reflection in the glass. And if he wears a dress and he likes it-- then what?

"Think about it, okay?" She gives his shoulder a squeeze. "I'm going to be staying here overnight. I'll be in the next room to the right if you'd like to talk."

With that, she rises. The saccharine scent of her perfume clings to his shirt.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dorothea and Marianne go out shopping. Dorothea rescues Marianne from a rude man. Blue's identity crisis reaches its peak.

Blue can't hear the Goddess, but he can hear her messengers.

Beyond the midnight wind, the crickets’ song, the sounds of the city, he can hear the owls. Just a feather from one is said to be a sign of fortune from the Goddess, not that he’s ever picked one up. As Blue leans against the windowsill, he swears once or twice he catches sight of a pair of round eyes staring at him from a distant tree.

A knock on the door startles him from his thoughts. "Are you decent?"

"I'm dressed, yes."

Dorothea opens the door. She’s still in her Saint Seiros regalia. Based on the thunderous applause that shook the whole opera house, the show had been a hit. Blue doesn't regret having ducked out when he did, though. The idea of watching Dorothea perform those tender scenes with another person as Emperor Wilhelm makes him clench his fists.

Dorothea giggles. "You look cute.”

He idly touches a hand to his hip. The night gown's silk surprises him still. The clothes that his parents once bought for him are made of fine materials, sure, but they don’t feel nicer to wear. They feel wrong in some way. He's begun to figure out why and he hates it.

Dorothea closes the door behind her and begins to wipe off her makeup with a cloth. "We couldn't have pulled off today's performance without your help, Blue. We really did need the extra set of hands! You could always stay working here, you know.”

Blue gives a slight shake of his head in response. It hurts too much to imagine planning his future. He's certain the Goddess doesn't have one for someone- _something_ \- like him.

The next thing he knows, she's walked up behind him. "Blue, what's wrong?"

With the window pulled up, he can't look at her reflection in the glass. All the better, since he'd have to look at his own reflection as well. Yet he can imagine how she's looking at him now: slightly pouty that she's been ignored, but eyes betraying her worry.

 _Idiot. Monster,_ something inside him chastises. _Why can't you do anything right?_

"I'm fine. Um... just tired."

His family always accepted the explanation. They were far from uncaring; rather, they just knew the burden that weighed down his heart. One of the burdens, anyway. Dorothea smacks her lips before she speaks. "Bullshit."

He turns slightly. "Pardon me?"

Dorothea's hands are on her hips. "Blue, something's on your mind. You can talk to me."

Manuela had said that Dorothea knew how she- one of the most beautiful and beloved opera singers in the world- was born as a boy. She had said Dorothea would accept Blue, no matter what.

He knows what he needs to say, but the words won't come out. Tears sting his eyes. He forces himself to breathe and focuses on the sound of the owls outside.

Dorothea takes a step closer. "I was worried when you weren't backstage, or anywhere to be seen, after the show."

"I needed some air."

"Is that why the box of your family's clothing is out by your bedside?"

She's too smart for her own good. That's why he likes her, he supposes. She's carved her own destiny from just her ability alone. Like the Goddess, she found a sky devoid of stars and lit a path across the heavens. Blue can only watch in awe-- and, regrettably, envy.

She doesn't press further, at least not yet, but she places a hand on his shoulder. He takes a shaky breath.

"After I left... I... I was going to go to the church first. This is the longest I've gone without attending a sermon."

"I'll take you if you want to go."

"I, um... I wouldn't want to make you uncomfortable..."

"I wouldn't be, if you were there with me." She gives his shoulder a squeeze. "I may not believe in the goddess, but I believe in you."

"You're wasting your faith." He's never taken such a bitter tone with her. He regrets it instantly. "There's nothing to believe in. Just an empty heart and a corrupted Crest."

Once she sets her mind to something, she’s stalwart about it. "I believe in the time we spent together. I believe in our friendship."

Blue rubs his face with the back of his hand. It comes back dry. He couldn't expect himself to cry anymore, not when he used all his tears in front of Manuela.

"Every night," Blue whispers, "I pray for the Goddess to cure me... to cure me of everything wretched about me. But all I wake up to is silence."

"Maybe the Goddess doesn't answer because you don't need to be cured."

He turns to face her in full. Her face is set rigidly, her eyes unwavering.

"What...?"

"I meant what I said. Isn't it viewed as presumptuous for a mortal to know the Goddess's plans? She won't fix what isn't broken. You're here for a reason, Blue. You're _alive_ for a reason."

"To serve as an example to others, maybe. As if my head were born on a stake."

"To serve as an example, yes, but by leading. I admire you. You've shown such strength." Her voice drops to a hushed tone. "You've made me want to do better."

The owls have gone quiet. They have no more wisdom to offer. Dorothea's words hang in the silence.

She's already heard the truth about his cursed Crest. Why does this feel so much worse? He thinks of his parents, the grim fate they must have met-- all he has left of them are his name and his estate. Yet he's already discarded both, hiding in Enbarr, using an alias that Dorothea gifted him on the spot.

Dorothea releases her hand. "I'm going to get ready for bed. I want you to know, Blue, that I care for you. Nothing you can tell me will shake that belief."

* * *

He avoids catching Manuela's eye whenever they pass in the halls. He throws himself into preparing for the next show, _The Ballad of Marianne_. As he understands it from listening in on the rehearsals, it's a drama about a woman trapped in a high tower by a loathsome beast.

The days go by and Blue shoves that cowering _something_ back into his heart where it belongs. Dorothea and Manuela subtly ask others about the von Rigels, but no information surfaces, even as their inquiries reach the nobles. Ever since the incident with the imperial guard, Blue has been too nervous to dedicate much time or energy to the investigation.

As promised, Dorothea takes him to the local Church of Seiros. Weeks have passed since they heard the clock tower chime, signaling the end of the nobles' meeting. He joins in some of the songs, letting his voice dissolve into the choir. Dorothea joins as well, surprising Blue by knowing the words by heart.

"Payback time," she says, cornering him at the vanity one afternoon.

"For attending church with me...?"

"Uh-huh. Among other things, like my investigative services. I couldn't ask for coin from a friend, but you know what I could ask for?" She smiles widely. "You're going to let me practice my makeup on you."

He wishes she would just ask for money and get it over with. "You might as well apply the face paint to a hog."

"Hush and sit down in that chair. If you complain, it's going to take longer."

Blue obeys. He doesn't ask why she needs to practice makeup on him, lest it take even longer.

"Close your eyes," she insists.

At least he can find some reprieve in not having to look in the mirror. He tries to imagine what Dorothea's doing to him based on the feel of the little brushes dancing around his face. He can't imagine it would actually make him look _good_. No matter how much she painted a hog, it's still a hog.

Hours stretch on, if not days. Every time he shifts in his seat, she insists she's almost done, even if she was 'almost done' 30 minutes ago. Finally, he hears her make a triumphant noise. "Done! Open your eyes!"

Blue opens his eyes and stares at the young woman in front of him. Soft blue hair frames a gentle, smooth face. Her long lashes blink at him. The blush on her cheeks rounds out her face.

Now he stares face to face with the creature he's kept locked up inside his heart, and rather than it consuming him, he finds the girl smiling back at him. Dorothea is smiling as well.

"I think I did a nice job, if I do say so myself," Dorothea giggles. "Do you like it?"

He doesn't feel like he's pinned to a corkboard or being pried open or inspected by the Goddess. There's bubbles floating up in his chest. He turns his head to admire himself from different angles. For once, he can't turn away from the mirror.

"I... I love it."

"I knew you would!" she squeals. "Come on, let's get you dressed up!"

"Dressed up?"

This wasn't part of the deal. Yet he makes no effort to resist as Dorothea holds up various skirts and blouses to his body. Paired with a pair of earrings that clip to his lobes rather than pierce them, he no longer recognizes himself as the von Rigel boy at all. He's himself, whoever that might be.

Dorothea brushes his hair and treats it with some kind of sweet-smelling oil. As she's massaging his scalp, someone knocks on the door.

"You may enter," Dorothea says.

A worker with the opera house peeks his head in. "Ladies," he says, "I'm taking care of our weekly trip to the grocer. Do you wish for anything outside the norm?"

"Nothing for me, thanks," Dorothea says.

"And you, miss?"

A moment passes. Dorothea taps Blue on the shoulder.

The worker is talking to _Blue._

Her jaw just hangs open. Dorothea answers in his stead. "She doesn't want anything special, either. Thank you for checking."

_She!_

The worker nods and closes the door. Blue is struck with the desire to bury his face in his hands, but he can't smudge the makeup. He stares at his hands folded on his lap, face burning, while Dorothea returns to massaging the oil into his hair.

"Pardon Gustav, would you?" Dorothea says. "He must have seen you all dressed up and assumed you were a girl."

"I..." The words slip out before he can catch them. "I enjoyed it."

He expects laughter, but instead, she just lets out a happy hum. "I could dress you up more often, then. It's fun."

His voice comes out so small. "I would like that."

* * *

"Is this not... unclean?"

"What are you talking about? We've both washed up and those clothes were just laundered."

"Not that. I mean... me. Going out. Like this."

"Why would it be?" Dorothea holds Blue's hand. He knows how to walk, surely, but not in the flowing skirt and pretty flats that she's given him. He feels like he might as well be learning how to fly.

With how exposed he feels, he may as well be walking nude into the market. It's like he's shed some kind of layer and feeling the wind again for the first time. Even so, nobody in the market takes a second look at him.

While someone may have headed to the grocer, Dorothea has reaped quite the profit from her starring role in _The Four Saints_ and is looking to splurge. She stops at a parked traveling merchant's cart. The gems and baubles glisten in the sunlight.

A woman with fiery red hair leans on the counter. "Dorothea, nice to see you again!"

"Nice to see you as well, Anna." Dorothea admires the jewelry. "Any good new pieces to recommend?"

Anna scoffs. "I only bring the finest selection, you know. Hand-chosen gems all the way from Morfis." Her eyes turn to Blue. "And who's your friend? She's so cute!"

 _She._ It's there, again, staring at him like an owl.

Dorothea gives Blue a knowing look. "Isn't she? Her name is--"

"Marianne." Blue- or, rather, Marianne- lets go of Dorothea's hand, standing a little taller. "My name is... Marianne."

"Oh, what a lovely name!" Anna coos. "The performance of _The Ballad of Marianne_ is coming up, you know! It must be your favorite, isn't it?"

"It is." A smile tugs at her perpetual frown. "But I like all of Dorothea's work."

This time, Dorothea's the one caught off guard. When Marianne looks again, Dorothea’s ears have turned pink.

"This one." Dorothea picks up a clasp. It’s shaped like a four-pointed star that sprouts two rams horns from the top, a smaller angle below the star. "I've never seen a symbol like this before."

"You have a sharp eye as always." Anna leans in. "That's a symbol of the storm dragon. It's exceptionally rare! I forgot from where I acquired it... I feel as if it just appeared in my inventory. Mysterious, isn't it?"

Marianne is sure that Anna's just playing up the tale in order to make it more interesting, but something about it calls to her. She trains her eyes intently on Anna as she finishes her story. Anna says, "Apparently some view it as a symbol of bad luck, but it's a misunderstood symbol. Those who wear it use it as a warding against corruption. It's said to draw out the wearer's willpower."

Dorothea turns the clasp over in her hands. It catches the sun's light. Marianne places a hand on her forearm. She no longer has money of her own, unable to put this on her parents' inn tab as well. Dorothea counts out several coins and places them in front of Anna. "We'll take it."

"Pleasure doing business with you!" Anna chirps. As the two girls turn to leave, Anna says: “Take care, Dorothea! Nice to meet you, Marianne!”

* * *

Dorothea keeps glancing at Marianne each time the giggles spill over.

“She thought I was a girl,” Marianne repeats over and over, beaming. “I keep getting called ‘miss’ and ‘she’!”

Marianne’s glowing smile, in turn, attracts more attention. In some cases, Dorothea thinks her friend is drawing more glances than she is. Marianne isn’t used to dealing with all the smiles and waves-- she clings closer to Dorothea’s arm, which Dorothea doesn’t mind one bit.

“Marianne,” Dorothea says, feeling out the name. “ _Miss_ Marianne.”

“Oh, Goddess.” Marianne tries to hide her burning face. “Dorothea… what should I do?”

“You should be happy! You deserve it, Marianne. You’re beautiful.”

If Marianne looked like she was overjoyed before, she’s practically about to burst now. “You… um… said… beautiful?”

“Yes, and I mean it. Not to admire my own handiwork too much with the makeup, of course. What’s _really_ beautiful, Marianne, is how happy you are right now. I want you to keep that joy close to your heart.”

 _Close to my heart,_ she thinks. She places a hand on her chest. For once, even for a moment, it doesn’t feel like knocking on a hollow stump.

“Could you teach me how to make myself look like this?” Marianne gestures to her clothing and makeup.

“Of course! It’s tricky at first, but it’s fun,” Dorothea says. “Now that you’re Marianne, do you want to stay this way?”

“I can’t forever, right? Surely, I’ll lose the makeup once it’s time for me to bathe…”

“You can stay as Marianne even once you change back into your old clothing and wear your old face.”

“That…” Marianne swallows a lump in her throat. “Isn’t that lying?”

“What do you mean?”

“I’m not really Marianne, am I? I’m a boy. The Goddess made me a boy, like how she gave me this Crest. I… I can’t abandon those things.”

She blinks and juts out her jaw in a way she’s used to when she needs to stop herself from crying. If nothing else, it would spoil all the hard work Dorothea went to in order to paint her face.

Dorothea pulls them aside, and once they’re alone, squeezes both of Marianne’s hands in her own. “Marianne. Who do you want to be?”

“It… doesn’t matter what I _want_. It’s not that easy for a noble,” Marianne says. She doesn’t miss the look of hurt in Dorothea’s eyes. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine,” Dorothea says, even though it isn’t. “It’s not something a person like _me_ could understand.”

“That isn’t what I meant!”

“And did the _Goddess_ make Manuela a boy, too? Someone like _her?”_

Her words pierce like knives. “It’s different for me.”

Dorothea takes a deep breath and exhales as if she’s deflating. “Fine. Fine. But just pretend with me for a moment, okay?”

“Um…”

“If you could choose what to be, which person would you be? Blue, or Marianne? If you could just magically cast away everything else and choose as if you were putting on clothes?”

 _Marianne, of course._ It isn’t even a question. It’s as if the Goddess asked her if her soul should go to paradise or be cast into the flames of eternity. But just the same as in that comparison, she isn’t sure if she _deserves_ Paradise. She doesn’t--

He doesn’t deserve Marianne.

Blue has a striking feeling of being a snake and retracting into a shed skin.

* * *

Afterward, Dorothea fulfills her promise and teaches Blue how to dress up and become ‘Marianne’. It still feels nice, like an out of body experience. When Blue looks in the mirror, though, the girl who stares back doesn’t feel like _him_ anymore.

There’s a key element missing. He’s not sure what it is that he lost. He takes the clasp that Dorothea bought for him and stuffs it in his box of possessions, hiding it deep beneath his clothes.

* * *

Audiences are still lingering from a tour when Marianne returns to the opera house. She had strolled around a park, having missed the feeling of being immersed in nature. It had been extra nice experiencing it as Marianne.

She’s humming to herself when a tall man steps in front of her. She ends up eye-level with his gold lapels on his suit jacket. “Hey, where’s a sweet young thing like you off to in a hurry?”

Marianne looks behind her. Then she looks back at the man. He laughs, deep from his gut. “Of course I’m talking to you! I guess it’s not every day a noble like me talks to a commoner like you, huh?”

She had borrowed one of Dorothea’s dresses. It’s a simple white dress that reaches her knees. It’s simple, but Marianne would have traded all her suits for it in a heartbeat.

“Um… excuse me, please.” She doesn’t want to explain that she’s not a commoner. The young von Rigel boy isn’t a commoner, but Marianne is.

His face darkens. “No need to be so cold. I’m just trying to talk to you. You should be thankful.”

“But… um… thank you?” She feels like she had been flying freely and now she’s lost in the midst of a thunderstorm. “I mean…”

“That’s more like it. I’ll teach you the proper manners of a consort over dinner tonight.”

_Consort?!_

Marianne’s stomach lurches. All she has to do to get out of this is to correct him. _I’m not a girl_ , she could say. It feels, though, as if she- as if ‘Blue’- might as well reach into the mirror and stab Marianne himself.

And if this man, who’s at least three times her age, got so offended from her just saying ‘excuse me’, then what would happen if he knew he had been flirting with someone like her?

“Come on, warm up a little, ice queen.” He makes that awful laugh again and puts a hand on her shoulder. It’s rough and feels like a rash upon her skin. “Smile for me.”

“I… uh…”

“Marianne! You’re back from your errand!” shouts a familiar voice, a bit too loud. The next thing Marianne knows, the offending hand is gone and Dorothea has swept her up in a hug.

The strange noble grimaces. “Do you know this girl?”

“Of course! Marianne is my girlfriend.”

 _Girlfriend. Girlfriend. Girlfriend._ The word echoes so loudly in Marianne’s mind. She opens her mouth but can’t form any words.

She can’t see the anger on the noble’s face, but it comes through in how he barks out his words. “Well, your _girlfriend_ was talking with a real man.”

“We’re together. She’s not interested.”

“What are you talking about--”

The sense of magic curdles the air around them. Dorothea’s hair raises behind her, as if weightless. “She’s. Not. _Interested_ , good sir.”

Heavy footsteps stumble backward. The next thing Marianne knows, she hears the man’s string of curses as he stomps out of the opera house and into the streat.

Dorothea douses the magic as if snuffing out a candle. “Come on,” she whispers, escorting Marianne to their shared room.

Once they’re alone, Dorothea scoffs. “What a creep! He wasn’t even any of the major noble houses. Of course, give a man any amount of authority and he’ll act like he’s been crowned king.”

Marianne bites a nail. “Dorothea… what if you get in trouble?”

She waves a hand. “He’s all bark and no bite. He’s going to find some girl who isn’t taken and won’t fight back.”

“Um… Did you mean what you said?”

Dorothea begins to calm down. “What did I say?”

“It’s… nothing. Nevermind.”

“About us being girlfriends?”

Her heart jumps.

“I- I wasn’t trying to… um, take your words seriously, but…”

Dorothea’s giggling. At the same time, she can’t bring herself to look at Marianne.

“I wanted to make an excuse.”

“Right… of course,” Marianne squeaks.

“But…”

“... yes?”

Dorothea turns to her with a piercing gaze. “Any partner of mine would have to understand who they are. I couldn’t deal with only having half their heart.”

* * *

Becoming ‘Blue’ again is like putting on clothes that no longer fit. Each time Marianne tries, she feels more and more uncomfortable in what she assumed would be her default state.

She and Dorothea sleep in the same room, but further apart than ever. Marianne’s prayers are met with silence. When she’s sure that Dorothea is asleep, she whispers to herself the songs that she’s overheard from rehearsal.

* * *

“That’s the last of the help we’ll need for the performance,” Manuela says. She hands Blue some coins. “This is under the table, mind you, but you deserve something extra for your hard work.”

Marianne, dressed as Blue, takes the coins. She doesn’t really know how much it is, since it’s in Adrestian currency and her parents handle all the finances. Still, it’s a nice gesture. Manuela probably pictures her running off to buy a new dress or the like.

“So…” Manuela leans in. “Marianne, huh?”

She doesn’t meet her stare. “It’s going to be a great show.”

“I’m not talking about the show, darling.”

Blue crosses her arms, unable to answer.

“Do you want to talk?” Manuela asks, gently. “I could put on some tea.”

The idea of some proper tea is tempting, but Blue shakes her head. “Um… that won’t be necessary.”

As much as Blue wants to leave- especially seeing the pitying look on Manuela’s face- she finds her feet rooted to the ground.

“Do you know how _The Ballad of Marianne_ ends?” Manuela asks, suddenly.

“Not… exactly.” She’s overheard some of the rehearsals, but she ends up focusing more on the quality of Dorothea’s voice rather than on the lyrics.

“It’s a brilliant subversion of the genre. Rather than being saved by a hero, the marquess- Marianne, that is- slays the beast and escapes from the tower on her own.” Manuela puts a hand to her cheek in contemplation. “Some people think this was based on true events, you know. To me, I just think it’s a nice story… something to think about.”

Blue holds herself tighter. “If you were in her place... would you try to rescue yourself?”

“Without a doubt,” Manuela says. “As nice as it would be to wait for my dashing knight, I couldn’t spend my life locked away.”

The other backstage workers have begun to leave. Manuela says goodbye to each.

“I… I understand,” Blue says. “Thank you.”

She bows and turns to leave. Manuela waves. “Good luck, Marianne.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We are at the very final "you can do it, Blue!" chapter. She is so close, readers. Our baby is about to fly.


End file.
